


Love

by arsenic_bite



Series: Poetry I Wrote in the Middle of the Night [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Aesthetic Attraction, Aromantic, Childhood Memories, Family Issues, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Prose Poem, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 23:50:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18020843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenic_bite/pseuds/arsenic_bite
Summary: Love. They do it because they love me.





	Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reflection on my childhood and how I dealt with stuff.

Love. They do it because they love me.

 

I don’t know it, but my mom is drinking.

 

Mom and Dad are fighting in the kitchen. I’m in my room, sitting in my bunk bed. I’m too distracted to sleep or do anything. I’m clutching my pillow, everything feels unreal.

 

I wake up in the morning and go out to find Dad sleeping on the couch in the living room. I don’t ask why.

 

Mom decides to go stay with her parents and comes back after a week.

 

I’m mean to my little sister but it’s okay, because I love her.

 

Dad is yelling at me and I don’t know why.

 

(Love, fear)

 

My twin sister takes care of us because she loves us.

 

I tell my friends that I hate my little sister, and they act weird about it. It makes me feel weird.

 

I tell my mom I hate my little sister. She says that if I really do, I would need to go to therapy.

 

I tell my little sister that no matter what I do or say, remember that I love her.

 

Mom gets a little too close to my fifth-grade teacher. I only realize this later.

 

They fight again and tell me they love me.

 

The word love starts to lose it’s meaning.

 

Love. Love. Love. They do it because they love me.

 

Their words are empty, I don’t believe them.

 

Later on, I encounter love again. But I’m not “boy crazy”, or even “girl crazy”

 

I don’t feel love.

 

I think I’m broken.

 

I force myself to love.

 

It feels wrong, but I love the boy, right? I love his freckles, the way his bright blue eyes contrast with his tan skin and sandy hair.

 

I love the girl, her nice laugh and golden wavy locks.

 

I love the boy, his bright pink lips and dark curly hair.

 

I love, I love, I love.

 

…

 

But do I really?


End file.
